The Adventure of the Empty House
by FollowedByImplosion
Summary: Sequel thingy to 'New Begininngs', which got REALLY long. Sherlock's back, and there's a case to solve. But Adele wont forget the headmaster, and his suspicious manner. Rating subject to change, no pairing. Well, slight Johnlock. Reviews appreciated. Ver
1. Refreshing Memories

**I reuploaded this to refresh your memory. Chapter one will be up ASAP, but I'm currently at war with MSWord and stuff. Gah. And I don't know why, but some words seem to be in blue. Sorry, it doesn't mean anything in particular. Not a good day for me. **

**Enjoy!**

Adele didn't really know how to feel about Sherlock's return. One the one hand, she was pleased that he wasn't dead, but on the other hand, he had technically lied to her. And Adele hated people lying to her. Admittedly, she would make exceptions for Sherlock and John, but it still made it difficult to trust him.

Sherlock had still only told Adele and John, so he couldn't leave the flat. If Mrs Hudson saw him, she'd probably faint, and if Lestrade saw him, he'd be shot outright. Adele had a feeling that Lestrade wouldn't take too kindly to Sherlock 'haunting' him. Although it would be rather funny.

Sherlock was slowly going mad, cooped up in Baker Street. He couldn't shoot the wall (which would probably disintegrate), he couldn't yell at anyone, or anything, and experiments were out of the question. Only two days after his return, the flat was quiet and depressing. John left occasionally, and Sherlock spent a lot of time on his laptop, looking at the news. He'd also taken to highlighting the newspaper, which was weird. He hadn't enjoyed being away, apparently, although the chance to follow, or in Adele's eyes spy on Adele was interesting. Adele wasn't sure exactly what he'd discovered, but she also didn't particularly care.

Because John hadn't been able to write on his blog, there were no clients. Adele had tried asking Sherlock where he'd been staying, but he wouldn't tell her. Therefore, Adele decided to annoy him as much as possible, and constantly ask him about whether he'd been with Irene Adler. That hadn't gone down well. Another frequent remedy to the boredom was basically Sherlock and Adele trying to out – insult each other, which was not only highly amusing in itself, but also annoyed John. Most times, this ended in a tie, and John about to throw something at the pair of them. Chess was another option, but each game lasted a good couple of hours, as neither Sherlock nor Adele was able to beat the other. Both came close, and several pieces were stolen in a desperate attempt to actually finish the game.

Adele was enjoying annoying Sherlock again. One way to do this was to call him Lockie. He scowled every time she did so, but it was funny, and even John laughed at bit (although once Sherlock scowled at him, he shut up). Sherlock had in turn decided to call her Addie. John probably also found this funny, but, for some reason, he didn't laugh when Sherlock said it. Maybe he was more scared of Adele. Admittedly, he probably was. Adele generally thought of herself as quite a scary person.

On the third day after Sherlock's return, after John had gone somewhere with a girl (it wouldn't last. As per usual), Sherlock was sitting on the floor looking at the paper, and Adele was reading. He looked up suddenly.

'What?' Adele asked, hint of annoyance in her voice.

'Good, to see you, Addie.'

Adele grinned at him;

'Good to see you too, Lockie.'


	2. Chapter 2

After a week of Sherlock back, Adele was much happier. One, he wasn't dead, which was obviously a good thing. Two, she could get away with a lot more messing around, such as almost disintegrating the kettle with Sulphuric Acid.

Sherlock, however, was ridiculously bored. He still hadn't informed Lestrade of his aliveness, which meant that there were no cases. He hadn't updated his website, and with John banned from updating his blog, nothing was actually happening. The flat was often quiet for hours at a time, with Adele on her laptop, Sherlock highlighting various newspaper articles, and John either on his computer, or out.

Mrs Hudson hadn't been told about Sherlock either, so going out was impossible. Of course, this wasn't going down well, but John had insisted that they wait until as late as possible to tell her. Adele wasn't sure about this; the sooner they told her, the sooner Sherlock would stop taking his boredom out on the toaster.

Adele was also aware of the frequent glances in her direction, from both Sherlock and John. She tried her best to ignore it, but several times she would look up, scowling. Sherlock, however well he tried to disguise it, would in turn frown at her, and John would smile weirdly. Something was clearly going on, but Adele couldn't be bothered to guess what.

One afternoon, after John had gone to see one of his girlfriends (Sherlock and Adele had both told him it wouldn't last, but he refused to believe it), Sherlock spoke for probably the first time in the past week.

'Park Lane.'

'What?'

'Park Lane, Ronald Adair. Did you tell Lestrade about the texts?'

'No, why?'

Sherlock took out his phone, and scrolled through the contacts. Pausing at someone's name, he showed it to her.

'Lestrade? So?'

'Wait for it.'

Just as he finished speaking, the doorbell went.

'I thought you shot that off?'

'Not that, wait.'

Mrs Hudson answered the door, and directed whoever it was upstairs. Judging by the pattern of the footsteps and the hurried manner, they were coming up the stairs two at a time.

Lestrade. And by the sound of things, he was alone.

'He doesn't…?'

Sherlock grinned, leaned back, and plucked at the strings of his violin. Adele raised her eyebrows, bracing herself for a reaction. Lestrade walked in.

'Adele, I – 'He spotted Sherlock sitting in the chair, with the violin. 'Jesus…'

'Afternoon, Lestrade.'

Lestrade looked back and forth from Sherlock to Adele. Sighing, he dithered a bit in the doorway.

'Do try not to faint, Lestrade, you'll scuff the floorboards, and Mrs Hudson won't be too pleased.' Sherlock spoke as though this was a perfectly normal occurrence.

Lestrade came further into the room. He looked at Adele, obviously desperate for an explanation.

'What the…?'

Adele grinned, then looked at Sherlock.

'Should I tell him?'

'Go ahead.'

'Sherlock decided that he isn't dead after all and has now tormented us all enough to come back and solve crimes. Which is why you're here, correct?'

Lestrade looked terrified. Well, Lestrade terrified. Adele wanted to laugh, but that would probably be classed as insensitive, and she felt slightly sorry for Lestrade.

'I don't know how he's not dead, and he won't tell me.'

Lestrade finally managed to speak;

'How many people…?'

'Adele, John, and you.' Sherlock answered.

'Right. So. You want to help with the…?'

'Please. This is far too much fun to miss. Inform Donovan of my involvement, and I'll be there. With Adele and John.'

Lestrade looked worried then.

'Donovan? She'll be – '

'Absolutely furious. I know.' Sherlock looked pretty pleased with himself.

Adele was now confused.

'Hang on, are we talking about Park Lane?'

'Yes. Murder, I think.'

'How does he know? Scotland Yard aren't organised enough for that.'

'Texted him. Naturally, Lestrade was scared because someone had my phone. And he probably thought that you were in trouble, anyway.'

Lestrade looked more confused than ever.

'How did you…?'

'Honestly, Lestrade, are you that forgetful? It's me!' Sherlock was grinning manically now, clearly happy that he could insult Lestrade, and get out of the flat.

'Will you help?'

'Of course! Text me when Donovan's recovered from the shock.'

Lestrade sighed and left, obviously tired of Sherlock already. Adele grinned, as Sherlock jumped up and laughed.

'Excellent! Everything according to plan! Yes! Now, MRS HUDSON!'

'Oh no.'

Mrs Hudson appeared in the doorway.

'Yes dear? That sounded like – Sherlock!'

'Hello, Mrs Hudson! Wonderful to see you again!'

Mrs Hudson looked completely shocked, of course. Adele leaned against the sofa as Sherlock pulled Mrs Hudson into a hug.

'And now, everything is complete!'

Adele shook her head. Sherlock was well and truly mental. Still, he probably hadn't been able to talk to anyone while he was pretending to be dead/scaring her/whatever it was he did with his time, so she would have to cut him a bit of slack. Mrs Hudson laughed nervously, clearly wondering whether Sherlock was actually real.

'Goodness, Sherlock, I thought you were – '

'But I'm not! This is wonderful!'

Adele half expected Sherlock to start jumping around the flat now. She shrugged in the direction of Mrs Hudson, while Sherlock went into the kitchen. What Adele and John hadn't anticipated was the experiment that had been cleared away. Shit. Thankfully, Mrs Hudson had left, so Sherlock wouldn't yell at her.

'What've you done with my experiment?' Right on cue.

'Well, we all thought that you were dead, and none of us needed it.'

'I was in the middle of – '

'Blame John, not me. Although he'll say exactly the same thing.'

'Where is John, anyway?'

'He left about an hour ago, didn't you notice?'

Sherlock muttered something along the lines of 'mind palace' and 'murder'.

'He yelled that he was going.'

Sherlock chose to ignore her rather than think up a retort.

'So, what do you think about Park Lane?' He yelled from the living room. Adele followed him there, and glanced out of the window.

'Murder? Oh. If it were a gun, someone would have heard it, right?'

'Correct. But a gun is the most likely explanation, and you know what the force are like.'

'No witnesses?'

'Unlikely to be any, not in this situation.'

'Right.'

Adele heard the door slam shut. From downstairs, John called;

'I just saw Lestrade, was he-?'

'Yes, he was. Now, we've got a murder to investigate!'

Sherlock grabbed his scarf and coat (which was stupid because it was July), and grabbed John by the shoulders, turning him around and steering him out the door. John looked at Adele questioningly.

'They both know.' Adele muttered to him. 'He's absolutely ecstatic. And annoyed, he saw the table.'

'Shit.'

'On the up side, something to do. Sitting inside is boring. And he was starting to go mad.'

'So he...?'

'Who knows?'


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is a bit shorter because… Well, I don't know. I did a lot of it in IT lessons and such. And got in a lot of trouble in IT lessons. Hm. Either way, enjoy!**

They took a taxi to Park Lane, which was depressing in itself. Adele found herself scrolling through the few contacts on her phone, wondering whether to text Eliza or not. She felt sort of bad, considering that she hadn't even mentioned that she was leaving.

'Pay attention.'

Adele's head snapped up, to find Sherlock glaring at her.

'What?'

'Pay attention.'

Adele rolled her eyes and put her phone back in her pocket. She's almost forgotten how adamant Sherlock was that she not get distracted. There was little point in rebelling against Sherlock, and getting distracte was probably the worst Adele could do. How pathetic.

Across the road, Lestrade was talking to Donovan. Her eyes widened when she saw Sherlock, who waved at her happily.

'What's... isn't he...?'

'Afternoon, Donovan. Wouldn't talk about the whole affair now, bit of a sensitive subject with Adele.' Sherlock replied, cheerfully, as Adele scowled at him.

Donovan glared at Sherlock and Adele, choosing to ignore John, whom she had never especially hated.

'This is a crime scene, not a fairground. You shouldn't even be here!'

'Thanks for informing me of the plainly obvious, Donovan. As always, you see, but you don't _observe_!'

Donovan looked incredibly annoyed. Lestrade muttered something to her, and led the way into the house, attracting odd looks from everyone else.

'Ronald Adair, son of the Earl of Maynooth, high colonial official in Australia. No obvious motive, guy doesn't appear to have any enemies. Looks like he was working on some sort of accounts, we've got the papers somewhere. Seemed to play cards, but doesn't look like it was for large sums of money, from what we've found. Saying that, he once came out with £420 from a bloke named _Moran_. It _definitely_ wasn't a robbery, nothings been taken. What do you think?'

Sherlock had only seemed to listen to about half of Lestrade's information. He had set to work, looking out of the window, inspecting the door and all sorts.

'Door was locked from the inside?'

'Yes, and – '

'So, the only other way out was the window.'

Sherlock went back to the window, and Adele followed.

'There's about a twenty foot drop from here.' Adele frowned. 'And the flowers haven't been touched…'

Sherlock went back to doing whatever he did. Adele had long ago given up on guessing how it was important.

'You got anything?' Lestrade was growing steadily impatient, and Sherlock was blatantly ignoring him.

'A few theories.'

'Can you _explain_ any of them?'

'No. Your tiny little brain would have too much trouble comprehending them.'

Lestrade obviously didn't want to put up with this. Either the force were being asked to investigate quickly, or it looked as though the newspapers would be descending upon them soon.

'Sherlock, someone has just – '

'Yes, yes, someone's just been killed. Give me twenty four hours.'

Back to normal, it seemed. Lestrade sighed.

'Can you just-'

'_How_ was he killed?' Sherlock asked, impatiently.

'Revolver, by the looks of things.'

'No. Revolver bullet, but not a revolver.'

'What? Look, if you already know, then why – ?'

'No one heard a shot?'

'Not that we know of, no, but – '

'Then it wasn't a revolver, someone would've heard it.'

'But it's the only possible – '

'No. You've found a plausible explanation, which _won't_ come under fire. You haven't found an _actual_ explanation.'

'Well it explains all the facts – '

'No! It explains a few of the facts! Not _all_ of them!' Adele said. She had stepped in now, to prevent a potential argument.

'But it explains why the bullet is identified as a revolver bullet, and – '

'But it _doesn't _explain why no one heard the shot.'

'Maybe it was – '

'Of course it wasn't quiet, revolvers are ridiculously loud.'

'Then maybe – '

'If he was killed when you say he was, then _someone_ would have heard it. You said no one heard a shot; you can hear a revolver within a two mile radius.'

Lestrade sighed. 'But – '

'Revolvers are _loud_, Lestrade. Someone would have heard it. You're looking for a _quiet_ weapon. We know it was a bullet; therefore it has to be something capable of firing a shot. Not much fits that description, so it _could_ have been something rigged to fire a revolver bullet. You can't convert most firing weapons, so that narrows the field considerably. Conclusion, you're looking for a converted and quiet weapon, most likely an _air gun_!'

Lestrade stared at her.

'You're welcome.'

Lestrade took out his radio, and walked off, muttering into it. Donovan glared at Adele, incredibly pissed off. Adele turned around, to find Sherlock grinning.

'Nice work.'

'What? Oh, thanks. It's a bit obvious, really. I was mainly doing it to annoy him.'

'So, you got any more ideas?'

'No. You?'

'Still a few.'

'You going to explain them?'

'No. I need to do an experiment.'

'Oh no. Not another one.'

'Yes, another one. Why's that particularly bad?'

'Because your last one almost destroyed the flat, that's why.'

'Actually, I'm going to call upon the assistance of our good friend Molly. Coming?'

'Might as well. Hang on, does she know about…?'

'No. Oh. Well, she will in a few minutes.'

John was hanging around outside, for some reason. Adele gave him a questioning look.

'Best not to interfere.' He muttered, clearly not wanting Sherlock to hear.

'What? You didn't care before.'

'It's his first case after... all of this. Let him get on with it.'

'No way. You can't let him off because he basically traumatised us all. Look, he wants to do an experiment, at Bart's, and Molly doesn't know yet. I think she'll need... Moral support? Or something.'

'Shit.'

'We've been saying that an awful lot lately.'

'Hm. What's he experimenting?'

'Not sure, I saw him chiseling at the floor, probably something to do with that. He's working a lot faster, actually.'

'Interesting.'

'Not really.'

By now, Sherlock had made his way back across the road, and was standing there waiting for Adele and John.

'Hurry up!'


	4. Chapter 4

**Erm, problem, readers. MSWORD HAS FAILED ME. I'm now working in Wordpad, so I'm slower, and don't have spellcheck. It's ridiculous. So, sorry for any spelling errors. Gah, infuriating. Sorry. Oh, and I'm deviating slightly from the original, because I'm thick and can't work stuff out. Apologies and such. Meh.**

'Molly will scream.'

Sherlock looked up at Adele, surprised. 'What?'

'When she sees you. She'll be terrified.'

'Why?' Sherlock appeared to be genuinely confused.

'Because you're supposed to be dead, that's why. And Molly is _exactly_ the type of person to believe in ghosts.'

'Oh.'

'Did you really not think about that?'

'Maybe.'

'Of course.'

Bart's looked... depressing. Even in the sun, the place appeared to be in its own bubble, protected from the outside world, where everything was happy(ish). Sherlock made his way through the maze of corridors swiftly, seeking Molly. When they found her, he darted back around a corner, grinning.

'What?' John sounded impatient. Sherlock was behaving incredibly childishly at the moment.

'I'm going to sneak up on her. Scare her!'

'No way, Sherlock, that's horrible.' John objected. He couldn't do much though, and Sherlock sprang up before anyone could protest. He stood behind Molly for about five seconds, before tapping her on the back.

'Ye-Oh my God!' Molly squeaked, nearly dropping the papers she was holding. Sherlock smiled at her, as if nothing was wrong.

'Hello, Molly.'

'How are you-? What's going-?'

'Just saying hello. I'm in a bit of a hurry, experiment and such. Thought I'd stop by.'

Molly spotted Adele and John, and grinned nervously. Adele was slightly suspicious, but it_ was_ Molly. Sherlock almost skipped through the corridors, grinning manically at the occasional passerby. In Adele's opinion, he looked like an idiot, but it was funny, and Adele hadn't seen anything remotely funny in the past couple of weeks. John looked tired already, which wasn't surprising. As per usual, he was the one saying sorry to everyone Sherlock bumped into, shoved out of the way, or scared.

The lab was the same, and Sherlock wasted no time in getting started. Adele had already lost interest, and was instead going into wondering how Sherlock had tricked them all into thinking that he was dead. Was it even him that jumped off the roof? Had he used a dummy? Had someone jumped for him? And who had been in on it? Only him? Everyone else on the street? And where had Sherlock gone afterwards? Not Baker Street, obviously, and it was unlikely that he'd gone to Mycroft, who still hadn't been informed of the aliveness. Molly? But she'd been in Adele's line of sight for ages afterwards, so that was also pretty much impossible.

John was helping Sherlock, and Molly was walking around aimlessly. Doing what she did best, then. It occurred to Adele that no one had said anything yet. Time to fix that.

'Where've you been living all this time, then?'

Sherlock looked up, surprised. 'Not now.'

'Yes now. Where?'

'I can't tell you.'

'Why?'

'Because I can't.'

'Were you with _Irene_?' Adele tried to make her voice sound as patronising as possible. It worked, because Sherlock completely snapped.

'Adele, stop messing around and help. This isn't the time or place, and I said I'd tell you when I get round to it.'

Adele turned away, hurt. 'Fine. I'll assume yes.'

'No, I wasn't!'

'Well it can't be any worse than _her_, can it?'

'She's _dead_.'

'I'm not an idiot, you know. I saw right through you're little act.'

'Adele.' There was warning in his voice now.

'Going to use the _parent_ voice on me? Don't try it, Lockie, I still carry a gun.'

'You wouldn't shoot.'

'How do you know?'

'I just do.'

'Relying on instinct?'

'Maybe.'

'Idiot.'

'Alright, girls!' John had to raise his voice to keep up with the rushed manner of Sherlock and Adele. Although what he said confused Adele.

'He's not a girl.'

'It's an expression.'

Adele and Sherlock spoke together. 'Stupid one.' They glanced at each other, and burst out laughing. This continued for almost a minute, and afterwards, they found both John and Molly looking at them, confused. John took a moment to take in the situation, and then spoke;

'Sherlock, have you finished yet?'

'Almost. I just need another opinion... Adele.' He dragged her over, and showed her his notes.

'I can't read your handwriting, I can hardly give a second opinion.'

'Look. The mud from his shoes-'

'How do we know it's a he?'

'Type of shoe, it's unimportant. The mud and debris from the sole is from London, west or north west, and there's stuff from other locations as well. So, he's been on a trip around London, probably in the past day or so.'

'And? If you know, then why are you-?'

'Testing!'

'I don't need testing.'

'Yes you do. Now, I have information!'

'Is it relevant?'

'Lighten up, of course it isn't! Well, not yet. But it will be!'

John was looking confused already. Sherlock's absence had clearly lowered his IQ, which was worrying. That meant that the IQ could be changed by environmental factors, rather than people simply being clever.

'So what were you doing with all that stuff?'

'Experimenting!'

'Fine. Just explain the information.'

Sherlock glanced around (suspicious git). 'I've called in a few favors, and some of my darling homeless network have been kind enough to assist me. Someone wants me dead.'

'No shit, Sherlock.'

Sherlock frowned. 'How do you know?'

'The general _let's jump of a building to trick the assassins_ episode, the fact that you've been jumping around like a maniac for the past week or so, and the that stupid smile. You know the problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes? It always paints a-'

'I was _not_ with Irene!'

'And you call her by her first name. Get to the point.'

John was becoming impatient. 'Both of you. Just _explain_, Sherlock.'

'Someone wants me dead. And we're going to trick them!'

Adele and John raised their eyebrows. 'That's it? Trick them?' John asked, underwhelmed.

'Yes! Fun! Trick!'

Adele could sense some of Sherlock's trademark _let's run around London and see what happens_ ideas forming. Shit. 'Is this 'trick' going to be confusing and complex, and will there be events leading up to it with no real meaning what so ever?'

Now Sherlock raised _his_ eyebrows. He was becoming far too predictable. 'How did you know?'

'Because it's you. What happened to Lestrade and that dead guy?'

'Boring. We'll think about it on the way; I have twenty four hours, and I only need about two of them. Thanks Molly!'

Adele hadn't even noticed that Molly was still there. She shrugged in Molly's general direction, while Molly waved, looking extremely worried. Adele had long resigned to the fact that she'd never understand Molly and her complete weirdness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, chapters are getting shorter. This is the awkward filler story, A THIRD ONE IS ON THE WAY! I just thought that, as it's Sherlock, I should probably to a case. But y'know. Sorry. I'll try to make the next couple of chapters a bit longer, and then I'll write the third one ASAP. I've drafted most of it, anyway.**

**ENJOY!**

**And review? If you like? Ta.**

Even taxis were getting boring. Adele had no idea of where Sherlock wanted them to go, but he was glancing out of the window every few seconds, instead of being absorbed by his phone. Adele didn't know which was more annoying: An anti-social Sherlock, which was admittedly his general personality, or a paranoid Sherlock. Paranoid Sherlock was also cigarette-deprived Sherlock. Which meant stupid Sherlock. Which meant running around London like idiots. Which was actually pretty fun.

John was being very Johnish. Adele had never exactly been able to describe John. He was nice, most of the time, except for when he was being annoying, inquisitive, stupid, unintelligent, or willing to forgive Sherlock for everything he did wrong. Adele was sure that there was something going on between them; everyone else thought so, after all. It'd probably be quite fun to try to get them to admit it, but it would also be time consuming. But the evidence was all there. John was _way _too protective over his heterosexuality.

Sherlock stopped the taxi at Cavendish Square. He jumped out, glanced left and right, and walked on ahead, looking around every corner, and into each alcove. He kept glancing back, presumably thinking that he was being followed. The route didn't appear to have any particular destination, as they kept turning corners and doubling back. Sherlock was muttering, either to himself, or under the impression that Adele and John were actually listening. Sherlock obviously still remembered London perfectly; he strode confidently through the network of streets, most of which Adele didn't know existed.

They emerged onto a small road, full of old, gloomy houses, leading on to Manchester Street. From there, they found themselves in Blandford Street, and turned down a narrow passage, passed through a wooden gate and into a deserted garden, and for some strange reason, Sherlock opened the back door, leading them into the house. He closed the door behind them.

'Are you going to tell us _why_ we've broken into a house?' John's voice pierced the silence.

'When I've found that blasted torch.' Sherlock tore through cupboards, pausing every so often. Finally, he found a torch, and led them into what was apparently the front room. He peered through the curtains, into the relative darkness. 'What can you see?'

It looked exactly like 221B. Adele had never been across the road, because it was boring and pointless, but it was fairly obvious. But hadn't this place been blown up a couple of months ago?

'Didn't Moriarty blow this one up?'

'No, next one down. I'm surprised you didn't notice.'

'This side of the road bores me.'

Sherlock seemed satisfied with that explanation. He and John exchanged a look (again, definitely something going on), and Sherlock looked out of the window again. 'Look closer.'

Adele had to squint, but it was easy to make it out. What appeared to be a life size dummy of Sherlock was silhouetted against the window. It was pretty obvious that it was him; the fact that the thing had perfect posture and the features were sharp. Adele could here Sherlock laughing to himself happily.

'What do you think?' He actually sounded pleased.

'I think... It's... accurate.' Adele didn't really know what else she could say. John, on the other hand, did.

'Bloody brilliant.'

'Once again, John, expressing your views in every variation of the English language. Now! Guess why!'

'You've already told us; someone wants you dead, and you want to trick them.'

'Yes, but _whom_?'

'Any one you've ever insulted, made look stupid, and generally annoyed. I mean, it _is_ quite a wide field, but I'm sure we'll get there.'

Sherlock scowled, obviously not in the mood for messing around. Which was pretty contradictory, because he was being incredibly hyper today. Hm.

'Just tell us, Sherlock.' John

'Right. Moriarty had friends.'

'No shit, Sherlock.' Adele repeated.

'Shut up. Now, I said I took out his web. I didn't get through all of it.'

'Idiot.'

'Look, he's after me, tonight, and we're tricking him. Then we can carry on with Lestrade's case, it's incredibly easy. Got it?'

'No one _ever_ gets you. But yes. Sort of.'

'Good.' Did he _ever_ listen?

The room fell silent again, minus the noise of Adele's penknife flicking in and out, and Sherlock's fingers tapping the window ledge. Adele soon took to flicking the knife in front of John's face, to see his reaction.

'Oi!' John leapt back in shock as the blade swished passed his face. Sherlock didn't find this amusing.

'Shut up, both of you!'

'She just flicked a knife in my face!'

'Adele, don't mess around, John pay attention and stop being scared of a child.'

'I'm not a-' Adele whined, only to be cut short by Sherlock.

'Drop it.'

Adele went back to flicking the knife into thin air. It was incredibly boring, and Sherlock was still drumming his fingers and tapping his foot. You could see the occasional passerby, but they were all boring, and Sherlock was muttering his own deductions under his breath.

'Accountant. Banker. Three dogs. Affair. Hiding something. That something is the affair. Idiot. Bored.'

'This _was_ your idea, you know. You can't exactly blame us if you're bored.'

This continued for several hours, with the occasional yelp from John as the knife flicked past his face. Sherlock was still muttering, which was annoying.

'It moved!'

John was right. The waxwork had indeed moved, so that it was not his profile, but instead his back.

'Of course it moved, people move. It's supposed to be realistic.'

'Who moved it?'

'Mrs. Hudson, I told her that I'd stop melting the kettle.'

Adele frowned. 'She _believed_ you?'

'Of course she believed me. Who wouldn't?' Adele chose not to answer that question, and went back to playing with the knife.


	6. Chapter 6

**Readers! This is one of the last chapters! Because I have a third story (threequel?) coming up. With stuff. And yay! Enjoy! More to come!**

Adele had never been so bored in her life. Apart from when she'd spoken to Anderson. And Donovan. And Lestrade. So maybe it was all contradictory.

Scaring John with the knife had now gotten boring, and quizzing Sherlock about where he'd been probably wouldn't be a good idea. It was pitch black now, minus the torch directed at the window. Sherlock would look up suddenly every so often, only to be disappointed.

'Are you going to bother telling us what you're doing?'

'No.'

'Great.'

After another five minutes of just sitting there, Sherlock looked up. This time, he must have actually heard or seen something, because he grabbed Adele's arm and practically threw her into the corner of the room. John got the message and followed, and Sherlock turned the torch upside down.

'That was my arm, you idiot.'

Even in the dark, Adele could tell that he'd scowled. He took out his gun, and John did the same. For once, Adele didn't bother; they were handling whatever this was perfectly fine on their own. This was weird, considering that she would normally be the first to quite happily threaten someone. It was possibly the fact that she _hated_ the dark, plus the impeding threat of death and such. What the _hell_ was wrong with her?

Adele could now vaguely deduce what was going on. She could hear footsteps, which were incredibly badly disguised. Whoever this was wasn't very good at creeping through empty houses. Idiot. Squinting through the darkness, Adele could see the faint outline of a man, although she couldn't guess much else. They stood in the doorway for a considerable amount of time, turning his head, presumably looking for other people. The darkness was an _excellent_ disguise, because he started forwards, unaware of Adele, Sherlock and John in the corner. John was apparently ready to jump out, until he cottoned on to the fact that whoever it was didn't actually know that they were there.

The man crouched by the window, and his face fell into view. Well, probably for Sherlock and John, because Adele was too small to see anything past Sherlock's stupid arm. From what she _could_ see, he carried what looked to be a stick, but when he laid it on the floor, there was a metal clang. It sounded as though whoever it was was loading bullets, preparing to shoot through the open window. At Sherlock? Or what looked like Sherlock, in any case. This person really was an idiot. Adele heard the click of the gun thing, and John flinched.

The man straightened himself, and rested the end of the barrel on his shoulder. For a second he was motionless.

There was a strange noise, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Sherlock sprang up, and jumped on top of the man, flattening his face against the floor. The man jumped up quickly, and grabbed Sherlock's throat. John, being John, hit him on the side of his head with his gun, and Sherlock jumped though the open window.

'Adele, throw your gun down here!'

Adele obeyed, and she heard the gun hit the floor.

'Too far to the left!'

'Well sorry, I can't see you!'

Unfortunately, the second half of the sentence was cut short, because Sherlock had fired three shots into the air.

'You could just _call_ Lestrade, you know!'

'Tedious!'

Actually, it probably was. Within five minutes, Lestrade was striding through the door, eyes wide.

'Who knocked him out? Adele?'

'Actually, it was John. I wasn't involved. This time.'

The man was sort of regaining consciousness, so Adele twisted the heel of her foot into his shoulder blade. He yelled in pain, and Adele grinned back.

Donovan strode in, scowling at Adele. What did she think would happen, if she came with Lestrade to something involving Sherlock? Stupid woman.

'You might want an explanation, Lestrade. Think of this as you earning back your stripes. Three undetected murders. ' Sherlock looked a tiny bit too overjoyed.

'Yeah, well, you didn't exactly help. And what the _hell_ have you done this time?'

John had finally gotten up. Two plainclothes officers, probably from Scotland Yard had grabbed the guy and pulled him up, but were doing a crap job of restraining him. He was snarling at Sherlock, who was grinning happily, clearly enjoying this.

'Hello, Moran!' Sherlock strode over to the man who had now gained a name. Moran. Irish?

'Bastard!'

'I should probably introduce you. Adele, John, and Lestrade, I suppose, this is Sebastian Moran. Good friend of Jim Moriarty's, actually.'

Moran jumped forwards, but the officers dragged him back. Adele backed away slowly, trying not to make it to obvious. Moran's eyes flickered towards her for a minute, but she scowled back, shrugging it off.

'You did surprise me, actually. I didn't think that you'd also use this house and it's rather convenient front window. Thought you might work from the street, where I could surprise _you_ better. Might've been more… interesting.'

Moran chose to ignore this, and instead turned to one of the officers. 'You might be about to arrest me, but I shouldn't have to listen to his jibes! I'm supposed to be at the hands of the law, let this stay legal!'

'Technically, he can annoy you all he wants. You did try to kill him.' Adele grinned, and she knew that Lestrade was trying not to laugh. Unfortunately, Lestrade had a reputation to uphold.

'Are we just going to stand here taunting each other? Anything you want to say? Not too clever, if you don't mind.' This was directed at Sherlock, who was now leaning on the wall, smug. He bent down to retrieve the gun thing, showing it to everyone else.

'Good weapon. Almost silent, and excellent firing power. Made for Moriarty, actually. I've known about it for a while now, but it was never important. Lestrade, you can look after it, just this once. Although don't let Anderson get his hands on it. Bad idea.'

'Anything else? Only we need to question him.'

'What charge? And _don't _say attempted murder.'

'Attempted-'

'No. You need to arrest Mr Moran for _murder_, Lestrade!'

'Why would we-?'

'This is the man you want, for the murder of Ronald Adair! Remember? No one heard a shot! And as Adele quite rightly pointed out, _air_ _guns_ can be converted! It fits!'

Moran swore again, although he didn't look particularly pissed off. Had he wanted to get himself caught? Stupid man. Annoying.

Sherlock waved off a dazed Lestrade, and led Adele and John back to 221B, where Mrs Hudson was waiting by the door to the flat.

'Sherlock! You didn't tell me someone would try to _kill_ it!'

'Technically, tried to kill me. And now!' He picked up the bullet, which had landed near the entrance to the kitchen. 'You see? Revolver bullet. He rigged it, like we said.'

'I said.'

'We said.' Sherlock went over to the bookcase, which still had about a million little pieces of paper hanging out of it. He grabbed one, and threw it in John's vague direction. John caught it, although only because it flew into his face. And John was very protective of his face. The paper was full of general rubbish, about Moran, but in the corner, or one of the margins, Sherlock had written:

_The second most dangerous man in London._

'Why _second most dangerous man in Britain_? What makes _him_ the second most dangerous?'

'He was in contact with Moriarty, and-'

'In contact? Bet it was more than just that.'

John looked confused. Sherlock allowed himself a small grin, and Adele and Sherlock looked at John expectantly. His smile returned as he finally understood.

'How the _hell_ did you-?'

'Never mind. Why did he want that guy dead?'

Sherlock responded as though it was completely obvious. 'Adair probably caught Moran cheating at cards, or something. Get rid of the man who could pretty much stop him earning a living. I can't imagine Moriarty paid him.'

'Their relationship was probably a bit more personal.'

'Adele, once again, you've based this on two men who happen to be seen in the company of each other. Judgemental.'

'If you're talking about you and John, I'm not being judgemental. Everyone else thinks you should be together. You just go on about being _married to your work_, and he's too protective over his heterosexuality. Bad combination.'

'Anyway! How did you know Moran'd try to shoot you?' John asked.

'I've been watching him for a while, and then Adair was killed, which was one of the most transparent cases I've ever seen, and it all made sense.'

'Only to you.'

'Also he was quite obvious. A plot to kill me just after I return? The Adair case was probably just as much a distraction to me as a benefit to him and while I was busy, he could set up. Except he's an idiot, because he forgot to account that I _am_ the World's greatest and _only_ consulting detective.'

Adele and John just shook their heads. Sherlock went back to the table, probably to start an experiment. John went to his laptop.

'Can I put this one on the blog?'

'If you must.'


	7. Chapter 7

**Guys? Guys? I miss you! I miss the reviews. This is the second to last chapter, and I wouldn't mind… just a few? I mean, that'd be… nice. But I hope you enjoy anyway. Next chapter on the way, and then… THREEQUEL!**

Almost everyone knew about Sherlock being alive. Mycroft had been notified via text, after which he'd paid a visit to 221B, ranting for hours about how damaging this was, for some reason. Sherlock had dismissed it all, instead messing around with his violin and texting. Mycroft had been even more annoyed when he realised that Sherlock had been texting _him_, and had given up.

Sherlock had also strolled into Scotland Yard and spent a while running around notifying everyone of his return and of course his part in solving the Ronald Adair case, now known on John's blog, and therefore to the world, as _The Adventure of the Empty House_.

John had also regained his social life, or what little of it he could have with Sherlock around. About an hour ago, he'd left, yelling into Sherlock's ear that he would be out all day. Sherlock had been completely zoned out, so John had quit, shrugged in Adele's direction, and left. On the upside, the flat had been quiet for about forty minutes. On the downside, there was nothing to do. Sherlock had now re-joined reality, and was _composing_. Or as Adele called it, deafening the entire street.

'Oi.' Adele threw a pen in Sherlock's direction. He dodged it, and then threw it back.

'You could just say my name.'

'Effort.'

'Not really. What?'

'That headmaster, at the school. Do you know him? Only he mentioned you.'

'What? When?'

'Couple of times, just rubbish. And I saw him talking to Mycroft.'

'He was talking to-? Right. I see.'

'Just wondering. He was weird.'

'Hm.' Sherlock's phone beeped, and he checked it absentmindedly. His eyes widened slightly. 'I'm going out.'

'What?' Adele sat up. For the past hour or so she'd been slouched on the sofa, scrolling through the news on her phone and occasionally glancing at a book. The sudden movement sent a stabbing pain through her spine but she ignored it. 'Where?'

'Somewhere. Stay here. John!'

'He's out, idiot. Since about an hour ago.'

'Oh. Is that what the yelling was? It won't last, he shouldn't bother.'

Adele nodded, now too lazy to speak. It wasn't as though he'd digest any of it anyway. Although if she_ had _bothered, she would have asked why Sherlock was going wherever he was and why she had to miss out on all the fun. Sherlock ran downstairs and Adele heard the door slam.

The news was now boring, and A-Level Maths was depressing. Adele tossed the book to the floor, got up, which hurt, and wandered into her room, intent on finding her laptop. It wasn't sitting on the desk as it should, which was weird, but she thought nothing of it, instead picking it up from the floor.

An hour later, Adele was bored. Mrs Hudson had been up once, although Adele had been wearing headphones. Through the Mozart, she's heard Mrs Hudson complaining about the unfinished experiment on the kitchen table, but hadn't bothered joining in. No one had bothered texting, which meant that Lestrade was once again trying to do something himself (stupid idea), and John was _still_ out. He'd never managed this long without either Sherlock interfering, or John generally making an arse of himself.

Suddenly, Adele's phone went off. It was Sherlock's number, which was strange. Normally he would text.

'Hello?'

'I'm afraid your _friend_ Mr Holmes has gotten himself into a spot of – '

'Adele, stay where you are, the stupid-'

'Shut up. As I was saying, Mr Holmes has gotten himself into a spot of bother. I think we might need you to come and… help him out.'

Hammet. The headmaster. Who Adele had mentioned only about an hour ago, probably prompting Sherlock to go out.

'No response? Perhaps I'll get _him_ to talk.'

'Adele, don't listen to him. Stay at the flat, he's just –'

'I think that's all we need to hear. One hour, Miss Holmes.'

He hung up.

What that hell? Hammet was obviously an idiot, and he was probably up to something, but still. He knew Sherlock, and Mycroft. And Sherlock was with him. Or being held by him. Or whatever. So there was only one option. And it happened to be the one involving Mycroft. Who was an idiot at the best of times.

Adele glanced around the room, in a desperate attempt to find something to help. Her eyes rested on the bookcase, where, on the very top shelf, several books had been disturbed. She dragged a chair over, climbed up, and rifted through what remained. On the very back of the shelf, well disguised, she found-

A camera.

Just like the one Sherlock had found ages ago. It had a perfect view of the room, and probably hundreds of hours of footage stored on it. Someone was still watching them. There was no time to check exactly how long it'd been there, although a few weeks was a good guess. Hammet could have put it there. Although there wasn't any proof. Dammit.

Scrolling through the few contacts Adele actually had on her phone, she dialled Mycroft.

'Yes?'

'I need help.'

'What on _Earth_ have you got yourself into this time?'

'I think it's more a question of what your _brother_ has got himself into. And your friend, Hammet. Get over here _now_, Mycroft, or I _will_ make you sorry.'

'I don't take kindly to demands.'

'Mycroft, are you coming, or not?'

Mycroft deliberated before answering. 'Yes. Where is he?'

'No idea.'

'Helpful.'

Adele hung up. Mycroft was clearly sceptical, but this was his brother, and even their history wasn't going to get in the way. Hopefully. Adele retied her shoelaces, grabbed a set of keys from the mantel piece, and ran down the stairs.

'Mrs Hudson! I'm going out!'

Waiting for Mycroft outside, Adele texted Sherlock;

_Where are you?_

_Adele_

It only took a minute for a reply;

_School gym. He's yelling now, it's quite enjoyable._

Git. Why would Sherlock be yelling? Another question to add to the list of many.

Mycroft took his time. When he finally got to Baker Street, half an hour had passed. He'd turned up in his stupid government car with Anthea in tow. The last time Adele had met Anthea, it had been a battle of intelligence, and a stony silence. Plus, Adele had been trying to guess her actual name, which had annoyed Mycroft, who at the time had been trying (and failing) to get Adele to cooperate with him, and tell him what Sherlock was up to.

'What's _she_ doing here?'

'She's my assistant. You want help?'

'Your brother wants and needs help. Tell her to go and… annoy John. He's on a _date_.'

Mycroft shook his head, holding the car door open. Adele got in, reluctantly, narrowed her eyes at Anthea, and directed her attention to her phone. Anthea nodded, but Adele still scowled. Mycroft turned around.

'Where are they? Did you find out?' Was it Adele, or did he sound… panicked?

'That school gym. We _had_ an hour, but since you took so long getting here, we only have about thirty minutes. So tell your stupid chauffer to drive _fast_. You can destroy speed camera footage later.'

'Congestion charge.'

'Please. You practically pay yourself when you go through congestion charge zones.'

'Actually, the mayor of-'

'Shut up and drive.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Last chapter! Threequel on the way.**

**I apologise for this one. I really do. You'll all hate me, but it must be done. And the best bit? I still haven't decided what to do with her.**

**MWAHAHAHA!**

**Enjoy! And possibly review? Thanks!**

**Bye!**

**Oh, and quick question: I'm doing FanFiction for my ICT GCSE project thing, and I was wondering if I could show some of the reviews you guys leave. Is that cool? If you don't want me too, just send me a PM message. It's for a 'Window on your World' and obviously this IS my World! Yay!**

**Real bye now!**

Adele analysed the situation. The gates where open, and so was the student entrance to the school building. It was obvious that he _wanted_ her to get in.

'Be quiet. He doesn't know you're here, so wait outside.'

'The element of surprise?'

'It's useful. Shut up.'

Adele crept into the gym. The lights were off, but the echo of the door shutting gave her away. She blinked rapidly as someone, presumably Hammet, flicked them on.

Sherlock was standing in the middle if the gym, unhurt, but obviously in no position to try anything. He had his hands up in mock surrender, and looked disgusted. His eyes flashed when he saw Adele, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

'I always knew you would come. Little Adele would _never_ let her _only_ friend die.' Hammet sniggered from the shadows. 'And she couldn't resist being the heroine, for once. And then, Mr Holmes would do _anything_ to stop her getting hurt. Unless the two of you have a little surprise for me, I think I'm doing rather well.'

He took out his gun. Adele and Sherlock did the same. While Hammet was outnumbered two to one, he was generally in a better position. He actually knew what was going on, whereas Adele and Sherlock were still completely in the dark about his motives.

'So. I think little Addie might want to know how this… well, how it all started. Care to explain, Sherly?'

Sherlock frowned. 'Oh, I think you should. You know it so much better than I do.'

'Just remember, I could shoot either of you at any time, if you don't do what I say.'

Sherlock sighed. 'Hammet and I have known each other for quite a while. In fact, we were at school together. Although, he's a few years older.'

'Not that you can tell.' Hammet smirked.

'I think you can. Actually, Hammet and Mycroft were… _friends_. As far as friendship goes. He was, and always will be a Holmes brother. I must say, both were brilliant. Amazingly intelligent, the pair of them. Of course, I was always living up to the expectations of my older brother. Mycroft Holmes, and his friend Hammet; destined to go into high up jobs in the government.' Sherlock smirked. 'One of them did, anyway. Your teachers would be… disappointed, Hammet. A school? Even I thought you'd do better.'

'Even Sherlock Holmes couldn't guess.' Hammet's voice rang out, and echoed in the almost empty gym.

'I recruited Hammet about a day after I jumped off that roof. Even I can't watch you constantly, Adele, you're so bloody unpredictable. I needed a bit of help, and Hammet was perfectly placed.'

'Lucky coincidence.'

'Hardly. I don't believe in coincidence. Where others see coincidence, I see danger. It's my job. Although, of course, I failed to spot it in this case. Still friends with Mycroft, Hammet?'

'Strained.'

'You might have guessed, Adele. This…'

'Idiot.' Adele felt glad that she'd had a bit of input.

'Was in league with an old friend. Jim Moriarty. Well, he kept it hidden. The contact with Mycroft helped.'

'Mycroft has a track record, of course. Letting people out when he shouldn't. And we've seen how disastrous _that_ can be.' Once again, Hammet offering his lovely but rather pointless opinions. He really needed to shut up. 'I don't know if either of you have realised, but I've had a gun pointed at Addie's head for a few hours now. And a camera watching the flat, which you found. Shame.'

'Any motive, in all of this? Or just for fun?'

'Just for fun. I've been meaning to tell Mycroft for ages but I suppose I was just… biding my time. I have enjoyed this; you two would be _marvellous _players in my little game of chess. But Moriarty's long gone now, and he was going to give me some help. I don't owe any one any favours, so I may as well… _disappear_.'

'I could turn you in now.'

'But would you, Sherly? If you turn me in, I'll go. But you'll be bored. Bored forever. I'm all you've got to occupy you, until something else comes along. And we all know that won't be for a long, long time. And what would you say I did? No proof. Apart from the camera sitting on the desk, but that can be gotten rid of in two minutes.'

'Moriarty copycat.'

'Not much he can do about it now, is there?'

Hammet shrugged, and began to pace the gym.

'Well, you two aren't really much use to me now, are you? What to do, what to do? Kill you? But that's so much _effort_. But it would get rid of the constant threat. Meddling, that's what the pair of you are.'

'Hammet, shut up. Your voice annoys me.'

'Haven't called John yet?'

'No need to get John involved in your stupidity.'

Hammet nodded.

'Any suggestions? Otherwise I'll just shoot the pair of you through the head. This is rather tedious now, you see.'

Someone moved near the door. Mycroft.

Hammet turned, and Adele and Sherlock seized the opportunity. Sherlock rugby tackled him (maybe being so upper class had its advantages), and Adele hit him over the head with her gun. Dazed, Hammet staggered, and Adele tripped backwards over her laces. What neither Sherlock nor Adele had thought of was the fact that Hammet had been ready to shoot.

The reflex action caused his finger to slip. The noise of the bullet leaving the gun echoed, deafening everyone.

Suddenly, everything moved in slow motion. Adele whirled around, catching sight of the Hammet looking pleased with himself. The tension could have been cut with a knife. Mycroft must have heard, because he was now striding across the gym, gun in hand, aiming at Hammet's head. Either Hammet had shot randomly, or at someone in particular. Although, with Mycroft's appearance, it was more likely to be someone in particular. She turned her head to see whether Sherlock was okay, only to be faced with Sherlock running towards her, and apparently unharmed.

Too late, Adele felt the bullet slam into her, shattering a few ribs in the process. She stumbled backwards into the wall, just as Mycroft ran in. As Mycroft grabbed Hammet, Sherlock ran over.

'Mycroft, get him out!' Sherlock yelled. Adele dropped her gun, just in case she accidently shot herself in the foot, with the shock.

Mycroft shoved Hammet out of the door. Adele seized her last opportunity;

'Next time, aim for the head! Finishes the job a hell of a lot quicker!'

She laughed at herself; how bloody pathetic. Still, she probably wouldn't get another chance to yell at someone, so it was best to use the time wisely.

'Phone!'

Adele had almost forgotten the seriousness of the situation. Sherlock was apparently calling Lestrade, judging by the tone of voice. Oh, and the fact that his first word was Lestrade's name. But that wasn't the point.

'Lestrade, get over to Hammersmith _now_. Don't bring anyone irritating, and call an ambulance.' Adele could hear Lestrade yelling at Sherlock over the phone. 'No, I haven't done anything, it's Adele.' Sherlock was already growing impatient. 'You need to hurry, and for God's sake _don't _let Donovan-Actually, do, then you can drive – I can't even argue with you, give me a second.'

He passed the phone to Adele. 'Tell him exactly what's going on, I need to think.' Adele grabbed the phone.

'Adele what the hell's going on?'

'That headmaster guy, long story, but you need to listen. Properly. Because you have _really_ annoying habit of missing everything important, and that won't be good, considering the current situation.' Adele's voice was slowly becoming weaker. 'Get over to the school in Hammersmith, and call an ambulance on the way. Don't bring anyone irritating, and don't let anyone else get involved. Just like Sherlock said.'

'What's-?'

'Oh, and my life depends on it, so hurry up.'

'Why-?'

'Just move, and - hang on, give the phone to Donovan, so you can actually drive.'

Adele heard Lestrade muttering something, and the sound of the car moving. So, he was on his way.

'Freak junior.'

'Make him drive at five times the speed limit, okay?'

'Wha-?'

'_Please_, Donovan, and I swear, I'll never be horrible again.' Adele couldn't believe that she was pleading with _Donovan_, of all people.

'What are you-?'

'Donovan, I _really _don't have time for your stupidity.'

Adele handed the phone back to Sherlock, who practically yelled into it; 'Put this on speaker, I want him to hear every word I say. Lestrade, if you don't get here in the next five to ten minutes, you'll be so bloody sorry. I guarantee that myself and John will find you, and make the rest of your already cut short life living hell. Do you understand me? Do you know what? Yes, that is a threat! So do it!'

Adele hadn't heard Sherlock threaten anyone in… well, ever. He hung up and dialled someone else.

'John. You speak to him, okay?' Sherlock was going mad, it seemed. He dialled the number furiously.

'Sherlock?'

'No, it's Adele, Sherlock's here but-'

'Why're you-?'

'Listen, John, I have about three minutes, so don't interrupt. Hammet got Sherlock somehow, and then got me over here, and now I've been shot and Lestrade's on the way-'

'WHAT?'

'I told you not to interrupt.' Sherlock was scribbling instructions on a piece of paper. 'He says to stay where you are, and he'll call you at some point… erm… And don't start throwing things because we can't tell Mrs Hudson.'

'I'm not even at the flat, I'm… Why didn't you call me, I'm a-'

'You may be a doctor, but you're ages away, _please_ John, don't go mad like he is, I-'

'How can I-?'

'John, shut up, I think…' Adele could hear sirens in the distance. They sounded like the ones on Lestrade's car, but she couldn't be sure. 'Look, I'll be fine, just don't let Sherlock have a breakdown or something.'

Sherlock jumped up, throwing open the back doors of the gym. The sunlight forced Adele to squint. Through her eyelashes, she could see Lestrade jogging over.

'Adele! Are you… Okay, stupid question.'

'Too right.' She turned her attention back to the phone. 'John, stop being annoying and do as I said.' She threw Sherlock's phone in his general direction. He caught it be the tips of his fingers, trying to make it look elaborate and composed.

'You're absolutely awful at catching.'

Just as she said it, the room began to spin. Sherlock yelled at her; but his voice only echoed. Lestrade's footsteps were amplified on the floor, and she could hear Donovan yelling at Sherlock. Too much yelling.

'Ad? Ad, you need to try to stay conscious… I mean it, Ad, don't go under, it'll make it worse… Ad!'

Adele grinned, probably quite stupidly, just as she blacked out.


	9. Chapter 9

.net/s/8143375/1/bRiddle_b_bMe_b_This

THE THREEQUEL AND ARGH ENJOY IT AND STUFF!


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